This blog will cover the collision of two cultures - parents and teen children. They don't understand us, and view us as spoilers or walking ATMs (adults with teen malcontents?) We are left wondering what happened to our cute cuddly kids of a few years back, and when they may return. If ever.

Monday, October 27, 2008

The dance and the dress went off without a hitch this weekend at homecoming. And I learned some new traditions and ways of doing things.

First: You're not going to the dance, until you go to the dance. I came over to a friend's house to pick Jennifer up and found out that her friend, maybe nervous about the dance, had wanted to go to Fright Fest instead. Mom had talked friend into going, but another girl had dropped out. However, by the time we left the house, six girls and a hapless guy were going together. On the way to the restaurant, six more girls decided to join the pack.

Getting ready takes all day: Jennifer started hunting for a strapless bra at about 11 a.m. Serena came over at 3:30 pm to start getting ready, nails to be done, etc.

You're not allowed in the restaurant: I jumped out to make sure we were at the right Olive Garden, but Jennifer turned on me and told to stay, she'd check herself.

Okay, it's 7 pm, now what: That's what time the olive garden dinner wrapped, and the dance didn't start until 9 p.m. We thought about taking them to the house, but no, they wanted to go with the rest of the pack to the Supermall. We thought it might look out of place to stroll around the mall, but they had company. Many couples, including the homecoming queen, were with their dates and went round and round the mall.

On to the dance: I knew better than to get out of the car here.

Pick up at the dance: AFter watching all the movies for the week we'd tivo'd, back to the Auburn gym at about 12:30 am. All the girls came out carrying their shoes, sometimes with the date, more often than not, it seems like they'd parted the door.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I drove up to Auburn High School yesterday, and Jennifer picked up, finally, only to say, hey could you come a bit closer to pick me up.

She hopped in the car and quickly shut the door. Needed to get away from the cheerleaders, she explained.

????

Apparently one of her ex-good friends, Elliott, had let it "slip" to someone that Jennifer had called one of the cheerleaders a slut. So now, the pack of them where mad at her, even tho she apologized face-to-face. And now the cheer squad and the v-squad (volley ball) are at war over the fight between the two girls. Jennifer just didn't see why the girl, once apologized to, wouldn't just drop the matter. Well, that's alot to ask of any 15-year-old, I diplomatically tried to point out.

"Did you have drama like this when you were in high school?" she asked.

Well, yes. But I don't recall going around calling someone a slut. Bitch maybe, but not a slut. And why exactly does this girl deserve this title? Does she sleep around?

"No, but she gets fingered three times a week."

We were going through the produce aisle at Top Foods at this point in the story, and I'm sure everyone froze for a bit to try to hear the rest of this story.

When Jennifer saw my shocked look, she quickly said "I"m not going to explain that."

You don't have to.

So we had a little talk about calling people sluts. And if you insist on talking about folks, at least tell it to friends who will keep it in your circle of five.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Last weekend was spent looking for the perfect dress for homecoming. Now mind you, Jennifer and friends are not going with dates, but with each other, much to her dad's relief. He's quite excited at the thought of driving the girls to dinner and to the dance. He's not allowed inside.

But back to the dress. Jennifer had a $100 limit, and she met up with her friend at the Supermall, with it seems most of Auburn High School. She finally found one in about shop #2, a dress that looks like....think Marilyn's famous white dress, except in blue. She looks wonderful in it, and the no, the slit doesn't go down as far as Marilyn's between the cleavage.

Then her friend tried on a dress, a square cut red number that made her look absolutely stunning. Now the friend is not a size 2, and she's short, so I thought the dress did all the right things, it camouflaged some parts and emphasized the curves. But unf. her mom thought differently, and fussed at the cleavage.

Oh common, a little cleavage isn't bad. But in the end, the friend went with another dress.

On the way home, Jennifer remarked that i was "way more relaxed than the other moms." Afraid at what she was referring to, I asked her to explain.

She mentioned the dress episode and the fact I was okay letting her go to the dance at all. The other moms were having second thoughts. Well, it's not like she's going with a senior, and she is 15, so time to the loosen the reins a bit.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Just attended by 30 year class reunion, and stop, I'll do the math for you, that makes me 48, as of this Friday.

I had wanted my hubby and daughter to come, but both looked at me like I'd just suggested driving bamboo shoots underneath their nails. So they didn't come. And I almost turned tail when I walked into a lounge at the Tulalip Casino in near Marysville. I didn't see a single person I recognized, but soon found out, after 30 years, no one looked the same. We all had grey hairs, unless you're coloring it, like I am. No one had perfect bodies anymore, if they ever did.

But it was great talking to see where people ended up, teaching, writing novels, nursing, environmental cleanup, boating industry etc. And then an old boyfriend walked up. As he's talking to me, he's also checking out the rest of the room (to see if there is anymore More Important to talk to), and then someone comes up (had to check the name tag again, to see who I was talking to) and kids us about our short-term relationship.

"Oh, you're talking to another one of your old girlfriends," she laughs, looking his way.

"yeah, all of two seconds," I quipped.

"Oh common barb, I know I broke your heart," he said.

I wish I could say a quick comeback was ready, but I've never been good at that. Although I did ponder saying something about him being on his third wife, but no, not going there. I didn't schlep all the way up to Everett to be mean or "win." So I let it go, and untangled myself from the conversation as quickly as possible.

Yes, it did hurt 30 years ago to get dumped (actually I was still smarting from another boyfriend dumping me prior to this guy giving me the heave ho, but all in all, I did as much dumping and being dumped on over my dating years, which finally ended, thank god, when I met Gary). And old boyfriend dude had just been dumped by the Great Love of His Life, so we were both rebounding away, as only 18 year olds can do.

As I was pondering why he would say such a thing, it occurred to me that perhaps my 2 seconds quip stung a bit. Good gawd, after 30 years? Men and their egos.

All in all tho, it was good seeing people again. Truth be told, it was even fun talking to this guy, and saying a prayer of thanks of who I did end up with. The class of 1978 turned out okay. I just try not to think of Jennifer's 30th, which will be in 2041. I'll be almost 80 then. I doubt I'll still be going to class reunions, but who knows?

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

I think it would help with the instability and discouragement I see in the ranks here, both at Auburn Senior High and J's former middle school, Cascade.

If you want good people to walk away from jobs that pay 50K, 70K or in the six figures, and go and "do good" in troubled schools, not only to do you have to give them support, but I think you need to give them a better salary range than $36 K, or maybe 42K if you have your masters. And this goes not only for career changers, which I considered doing for awhile, but those who have chosen teaching as their first profession.

I see heroes every day - and no they don't have superpowers like the TV series, which I love - who take kids from dysfunctional homes (and that's being nice) and try to get them to care about math, reading and science. I think raising the salaries, which intrinsically means giving this job a higher value in our society, is a place to start.

That was the questions posed to my daughter this week in, I think, her lit class. I'm listening to her while trying to get correct instructions to a friend's house "who lives up on the west hill of Auburn somewhere, near Serena's"

Most of the kids, 14 and 15 year olds, voted for that most people are, intrinsically bad. Which made me turn my head, and miss the turn off to said friend's house.

"But I voted that most of them are good," she added.

"So let me get this straight, they think most of the people are, on the inside, bad, but they do good things because......?"

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

After reading through the first part of the vampire-love book series "Twilight," Jennifer came into my bedroom this am to declare it good.

She simply couldn't put it down. And can't wait for the movie next month, now that Harry Potter's been bumped until next July.

Now, granted, she has to read this book for her book project. And she tried one book, got bored, so I suggested this one. I'd started the four-book series in the middle and had to backtrack. And it's a good read all in all. Not that it's harry potter, or great American Lit, but I'm a softy for vampire books.

But J. had overhead a women friend and I talk about the books, and how Bella is so IN LOVE and obsessed with Edward, she stages her entire life around him. We (both 40-somethings) discussed how that seemed a bit anti-woman.

"But that's just the way we fall in love," Jennifer said.

I shot her a suspicious look.

"No, I'm not, if you don't count the crush I have on Riley," she said.

Alien Nation

About Me (short version)

This blog will chronicle my journey through the tween and early teen years with my middle school daughter. You'll also be reading posts from other parents, who swear their children have been abducted by aliens, and have returned home..different.

A short synopsis of Barbara Clements. I'm a happily married, South King County mom with one daughter, and hope to someday freelance full-time as a writer for National Geographic. But until then, I have a daughter to raise and get through high school, which she'll hopefully leave in four years with a scholarship, my sanity intact and not pregnant.